by Cate Masters
Wait, who wanted imagined pleasure? If she didn’t have Eric soon, in the flesh, she’d be raising hell herself. The Mark should make him crazy with desire for her, yet he resisted. Anger propelled her to sit up. Those damn fae. She’d have to plan some revenge against them for interfering. Her blood red nails scraped the smooth sheets, wishing she could rip their little fairy faces off. For now, though, she concentrated on devising a way to speed things up. She wouldn’t wait any longer for Eric.
Setting her stiletto’d feet on the floor, she rose graceful as a ghost from the grave and paced. She could definitely get used to this demon stuff. Damn, she liked the way her legs looked like they went on forever in the heels. And the robe, sheer and sexy, swirled so nicely as she stalked back and forth across her puny room. Smiling devilishly, she imagined herself in Eric’s rambling home, sprawled across his bed, probably a king size to accommodate his gorgeous length. Sucking air through her teeth, she couldn’t wait to pin him down and finally fuck his brains out. She licked her lips and grasped her breasts. If only Eric’s hands were caressing her instead….
Okay, enough dreaming. Think! What linked Eric to the boring homebody, Jocelyn Gibson? Hmm, if Sheree were to arrange a mutilation, Eric wouldn’t find Joss so pretty. Hell no, the innkeeper wasn’t nearly as pretty as Sheree, especially since the Lord of The Underworld and his minion granted her extra pizzazz. So scratch that.
Both Eric and Jocelyn were animal lovers. And he paid way too much attention to her dog at the picnic. Clenching a long nail in her teeth, Sheree’s mind went into overdrive. Take the dog out of the picture and remove a link between Eric and Joss. Of course. The woman would be struck with grief, so weepy she wouldn’t be able to think about Eric. At least for awhile.
An inkling of guilt niggled at her. Joss Gibson had already suffered a terrible loss in losing her husband. Would losing her dog send her over the edge? Elation bubbled up. What a great idea. Then the innkeeper would be out of the picture forever.
Whirling toward the mirror, Sheree drew herself tall and statuesque. Damn, she looked fine. Aphrodite had nothing on her. Hands to hips, she struck several poses to admire the various angles of her perfection.
Oh yeah, the plan. Back to work.
Inhaling deeply, she extended her arms, making claws of her hands, and closed her eyes.
Nothing.
Wait, how was she supposed to summon the damn demon anyway? Before, he always appeared whenever he wanted something from her. Fuming, she glared at her reflection. Sure, but when she wanted something, where was he?
A growl grew in her chest, exploding through her throat. In fury, she whirled. Slamming into someone, her growl increased to a shriek. Someone had broken in! Smacking at him in desperation, she darted her gaze from bureau to chair. Find the cell, dial 911.
With a sickening crunch, her body petrified. Her muscles useless, her voice gone. Her eyes became stuck in their damn sockets.
The man moved into her line of vision. The demon.
She’d sigh in relief, if she could.
Clad in black, the dark man’s smile appeared luminous. “Good. Now we can have a civilized conversation.”
Protest welled up within her, unable to escape. Yeah, real funny. Guess his idea of a civilized conversation was one-way. He talked, and she could do nothing except listen.
Maybe he recognized the venomous gleam in her eye.
“Oh, pardon. You’ll need the use of your mouth, I suppose.” Raising a brow, he scanned her length.
Sure, begrudge her the benefit of speech. And stop ogling me!
Poising his finger beside her lips, he warned, “I’m here to discuss your plan, so make it quick.”
Yes! Her plan. He’d heard her after all.
He touched her face. Or appeared to. Nothing registered until her mortified skin returned to life. Moving her jaw, her tongue flopped awkwardly when she asked, “How soon can you do it?”
Pursing his lips, he stared coolly. “Is there nothing more to your plan? You haven’t worked out any details?” Rolling his eyes, he clucked his tongue.
Details? Think, quick. “Send some dark spirits to kill him. They can lead him into the path of a speeding car.” Yes, perfect idea. No one could claim it was anything but an accident. “In stormy weather,” she blurted more clearly.
He stood for a moment, appraising her. “All right. So shall it be.” He turned away.
“Wait.”
An argument fell silent when he appraised her. “Oh. Right.”
He’d barely raised his hand when her body broke out of its prison. She tumbled forward, and then caught herself. Limbs shaky, she eased onto the bed. One of these days, she’d get even with the jerk. The nerve.
The sweet smell of revenge warmed her. “Soon, you’ll be mine, Eric.” Whether he liked it or not.
Chapter 10
Joss and Annie stood with Charlie Fulton in the driveway and surveyed his handiwork. The newly applied paint gave the house the appearance of a freshly bloomed flower. The lavender swaying in the field beyond set off the matching lavender paint and complementing violet trim.
The healthy sprouts encouraged Joss—and surprised her. Normally, such vigorous growth took several years to achieve. The energy below the property must nourish everything on its surface. Every tree and bloom had burst with vibrant life well before the rest of the town.
The cheery paint buoyed her spirits. “You did a wonderful job, Charlie.”
“Sure is eye-catching, I’ll give you that much.”
Joss couldn’t take credit. The ley line beneath the property held great power, as Gram and Lydia had said. The energies would yield more than prizewinning flowers. Her grandmother had told her those from the netherworld blessed Joss with protection.
Joss couldn’t deny the fae appeared more active of late. She’d told herself the lavender drew them, and pushed aside darker doubts.
“The color’s perfect for our name,” Annie agreed. “Lavender Hill Inn.”
“I saw the new sign on the way in,” Charlie said. “Very nice.”
Joss had to agree. Everything was coming together. “And just in time for our second open house. Without your help, Charlie, we could never have finished.”
Ducking his head, Charlie said, “I’m grateful to you for the work.”
“I hope you’ll come then. Annie’s planning a fantastic spread.”
Annie chimed in, “And you won’t want to miss the debut of Joss’s lavender lemonade.”
Charlie grinned. “I’m not much of a lemonade drinker, but I’ll sample it.”
“Careful, it will surprise you.” More than surprise. The drink soothed people’s souls, clarified their thoughts. If they drank enough, it helped them see what was most important in life.
So said Joss’s grandmother. Gram also claimed an affinity for all living things, and it allowed her to read their energies. If anyone suffered pain, her grandmother knew, even if it didn’t cry out. Her herbal remedies healed wounds and calmed fright. Even animals responded to the soothing scent of lavender. The horses grazed in the lower fields, more content than ever. The ex-racehorse hadn’t bucked a rider since last fall, an accomplishment in itself.
The tingling along Joss’s skin began at the same time the vet’s blue SUV turned into the driveway. With the windows down, sunglasses shielded Eric’s eyes. Not enough that his stare didn’t weigh on her. He lifted a hand in a wave and continued to the barn.
“A wave.” Annie gasped. “He’s warming up.” Her smirk punctuated the sarcasm.
More like the opposite. He appeared cooler to Joss every time they met. More distant, and so more difficult for her to read.
Charlie agreed, “No one gets much more out of him. Though the animals here see him often enough.” He gave Joss a sideways glance.
Despite the good doctor’s ambivalence, the tingle crawled up her spine, and she shifted her feet. “I should get inside. We have so much to
do.”
A good reminder not to dwell on Eric so much. The Victorian still required a good deal of work. She’d be less anxious if she had a better idea of whether her inn would be a success.
What if no one liked her lavender recipes? Then her whole plan would be shot.
Charlie followed. “I’ll be out of your hair, soon as I collect my tools.” He called hello to the vet, who walked toward the barn.
Eric turned, his back stiff. “Morning.”
To Joss’s surprise, he halted. Lately, he’d actively avoided her.
“I see you’ve been busy again, Charlie,” he said.
Something in his voice gave her pause. His husky tone sounded as if he struggled to speak. His hair was normally in disarray, one of his more endearing features. Today it appeared untouched by a comb. Dark circles underlined his eyes.
“Yep,” came the handyman’s good-natured response. “How’s business with you?”
“Busy as always.” He sent a sharp glance at Joss, and his pained expression eased, replaced with yearning.
Warmth twisted through her. She wanted to take him by the shoulders and—the image that sprang to mind took her breath away. The kind in steamy novels, where the couple entangled so deeply, no one could tell which appendages belonged to whom.
Pretty much like their last encounter.
No, she must put it out of her head. He obviously had. Sheree boasted to everyone how they spent every weekend together. Each time Joss heard about it, it stung deeper. How sincere he’d been when they’d made love.
Her brain took a sharp detour from romance to reprimand. Until a faint red glow caught her eye. Beneath his shirt, it pulsed like a heartbeat, slightly lower than the real one. Alarm rang in her brain like a bell, but he went about his business as usual.
With a wave, she reminded Charlie to send her a bill and strode to the house.
Within minutes, Eric had finished his business and drove off.
To help put him out of her mind, she waited a few minutes to leave. Distance made no difference. The more she tried to concentrate on her errands in town, the more vivid he sprang back. What was wrong with him? He resembled a torture victim, and moved slowly, as if in pain. At the farmer’s market, she clutched the basket, closed her eyes and sent healing thoughts his way. Something blocked them.
Only later, when black clouds blotted out his handsome brooding face, and gusts battered her Beetle on the way home, did Eric finally fall to the back of her mind.
Wind whipped through the trees and sent leaves whirling through the air. Joss strained to see through the stream of rain accumulating on her windshield faster than the wipers could handle. “I don’t like this, Taz.”
The dog’s ears pricked up.
“I know, I usually love thunderstorms.” This one held danger. With each flash of lightning, the scent of sulfur came stronger.
Gripping the wheel, she drove fast as she dared. Once she reached Yellow Breeches Road, she forced a long breath. “Almost home, baby.” The shadows deepened among the trees to near black, almost a palpable presence. A year ago, she’d have scoffed. No longer.
The solar spotlight above the inn’s sign gave only a dim glow, serving as a marker to turn. “Oh damn. I forgot the mail.” She stopped the car and hopped out, tugging her hood down against the driving rain. At the mailbox, a blur ran past, black and white bounding through the gray rain.
Fear shot through her. “Taz, no! Come back.”
His woofing faded down the road as he disappeared into the blackness.
A swarm of tiny lights swiftly appeared. Flashing in his wake, they followed Taz, urgently waving her on. A signal. A warning.
“No, no!” She ran after him, her soles slipping on the wet surface, terror mounting, making every movement like slow motion.
Headlights blazed through the curtain of rain as a car rounded the bend. A sickening thump sounded. Taz yelped, a piercing sound the night carried all too clearly. The car sped past her.
For one eternal moment, the orbs shimmered ahead, then dissolved.
A cold lump hardened in her stomach. Instinct told her they’d tried to save Taz. And failed. “No—Taz! Where are you?”
The storm thickened the night’s darkness. Joss ran at a steady pace, searching to the left and right. Please no. Don’t let him be hurt. A flash of lightning lit his unmoving body to the side of the road.
Panic spurred her faster. “Taz?”
She dropped to her knees beside him. Afraid at first to touch him, she rested her palms lightly on his head and back. Faint shudders came through his soggy fur. Still alive! Glancing up, she gauged the distance to Eric’s practice. Only a bit farther. She gathered Taz in her arms and struggled to gain her balance as she stood.
No lights shone in the house, not even on the porch. Lightning lit her path up the rain-slicked steps. Her foot slipped. She righted herself. “Sorry Taz. Please hang on, baby.” Cradling him as gently as she could, she supported his leg, hanging grotesquely out of place, his life energy slipping away to a hazy place. Time grew short.
Pressing a finger to the dim glow of the doorbell, she held it there.
Light winked on through the window. A few seconds later, the door burst open.
Eric’s drawstring pants hung off his hips as if hastily thrown on. His arms flailed stretching into a T-shirt, revealing a glimpse of his taut stomach. Not quick enough to hide the ember glowing between his ribs.
Gasping, she clutched Taz tighter. It finally hit her. She’d never seen The Mark before, but there it was. On Eric.
It explained his gruff behavior. He needed help. She’d have to ask Gram what to do.
His short hair stuck out from his head, and his blue eyes—lovely even in his stern face—took her in from head to toe. “What are you—”
“Please.” This was no time for pleasantries. Questions could wait, even about The Mark. “You have to help.”
His gaze went to the dog in her arms as if he didn’t notice before. “Bring him in.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Sensing his overriding concern for Taz, she trusted her instinct and followed him through the house to the dining room. Soaked through, her jacket dripped on the Mexican tile floor.
“Set him on the table.” He switched on the light above it. It cast a harsh glow on Taz as she laid him down.
At his touch, Taz yelped. “The leg’s broken.” He prodded along the stomach, back and other limbs. With a grunt, he finished the exam and went back to the broken limb.
Straightening, he appeared a primal being, so rough around the edges. Joss quelled the urge to smooth them with her touch, absorb the static of his spirit, as she’d done for John.
“He’s suffering a great deal. It’s best you put him down.” He looked at her, finally, her wet hair plastered to her head, clothes clinging.
His words chilled her blood. “No. You have to save him.”
“How old is he? Three?”
“Almost four. Why?”
“Do you want his quality of life diminished so drastically?”
“I can’t lose him.” She didn’t add, he’s all I have left of John.
“The leg’s almost severed. I’d have to amputate.”
She’d seen other dogs with three legs. “He can survive the injury, can’t he?”
“He can. Would he want to?”
Steeling herself, she said, “You have to try.”
With a resigned sigh, he bent to lift Taz. Though his movements were swift, his gentleness surprised her.
She must trust Eric would do everything possible for Taz, trust he wouldn’t allow The Mark to influence his actions. She followed him to a side door. He threw it open, then strode into the short breezeway connecting his home to his practice. She let him lead. He reached swiftly for light switches she’d have wasted precious time trying to locate. In the rear section of the building were the cages filled with a few overnight guests. A dog presse
d his face against the wire and growled. Hissing, a cat watched with wide amber eyes.
They knew better than she about Eric. How deeply had it infected him?
“All right, settle down.” He pushed open another door to a room with a table and instruments.
She shivered. This was where it would happen.
He laid Taz on the table. The dog cried and searched for her.
“I’m here, baby. Don’t be afraid.” She held his head as Eric prepared a syringe.
“This will knock him out so he won’t feel a thing.”
“I could stay and help,” she offered, “if you need me to.”
Registering surprise, his gaze flicked to hers. “No. It’s best if you leave.”
“I’m not leaving until…” She couldn’t finish and bit her lip.
“There’s a waiting room through that door.” He nodded toward it.
She clutched Taz’s neck, touched her cheek to his. “I’ll see you soon.” Trying not to cry, she kissed the dog’s head.
Eric took a step back, and held the table awkwardly. Not quite frowning, but definitely uncomfortable, until she looked up through the tears in her eyes. His rigid demeanor vanished, replaced by sorrowful compassion, like he wanted to take her in his arms. No, she couldn’t let him waste any time. She forced herself toward the door and shut it behind her.
The reception area was dark. She’d been there before and headed for the sofa under the window that looked out to his house. She hugged the cat-shaped pillow to her chest and pulled up her knees.
She couldn’t lose Taz. Not John and Taz too. It was too much to ask of her. Closing her eyes, she sunk into the cushions, trying to block the image of what Eric must be doing in there. How frightened Taz would be when he awoke without a leg. Confused. In pain.
The patter of rain soothed her. She curled against the curved arm of the sofa.
* * * *
“Joss.” A hand warmed her shoulder. Again, more insistently, he repeated, “Joss.”
Opening her eyes, she pushed hair from her face. The bright light behind the man standing there obscured his features. The surroundings were unfamiliar. Definitely not home.